Victory
by reflecting
Summary: Fem!Mike who ditched Trevor, applied herself in High School thus graduating early, aced Harvard Law, and got hired at a law firm not Pearson Hardman. After winning her first case, Mike goes out to celebrate on her own. Had she not been lazy and chosen the nearest bar in the fancy neighborhood, she might not have met the charming, if cocky, Harvey Specter. But she was, and she did.


**Pairing: **Mike Ross/Harvey Specter  
><strong>GenreTags: **AU - Gender Changes, Successful!Mike, Different First Meeting, First Time

**Notes:** Ooookay, a few things I want to say first:

This is my first Suits fanfiction! I've only seen season 1, though I've read up on the other seasons on the Suits Wiki because the show got too dramatic for my tastes but I'm still a Marvey shipper.

This isn't beta read! English isn't my first language, so please excuse any typos and/or grammatical errors! Thank you 3

Genderbending is a dirty pleasure of mine. As I've been accused of it before, I'd just like to point out that this does not mean I have any problem what-so-ever with slash. The majority of what I read and write is slash, I just occasionally like to change the male lead into a female one, because it's fun.

ANYWAY, err, this is just a one shot right now. I don't think I'll write a sequel? Anyway, this is pretty much awkward banter and porn so...uh. If you're looking for plot, this isn't the place.

OH! And as for Harvey's and Mike's respective ages, I purposely kept it vague. Their D. are 1972 and 1981 according to the Suits Wiki, but I'm not sure how long you study Harvard Law and practise before you become a (junior) associate, and with Mike being younger than her peers in this story, it uh...yeah, I wasn't sure how old to make her. She's somewhere in her early twenties, at least. Over 21 definitely.

I hope you'll enjoy! :D

(Please be kind *hides under rock*)

**WARNINGS: **This is heavily edited due to FFNet's rating system. You can find the unedited story on my AO3 account (link on my profile). In its unedited form it's highly explicit.

* * *

><p><strong>o-oOo-o<strong>

**Victory**

**o-oOo-o**

**oOo**

Mike grimaces as she sits down by the bar, slinging her purse on the back of her stool and signaling for the bartender, getting a nod in return. As she waits for him to finish with his current customer, Mike twists to the left and bends down slightly, bracing her right arm against the bar counter and hitching her left foot up to massage her ankle with her free hand. She's been on her feet all day in killer heels, still unused to the dress code at _Kirkland & McKenzie_, grumbling at the restriction her pencil skirt puts on her movements. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the bartender approaching, and she lets go of her throbbing ankle in order to sit up straight to face him.

"Whiskey on the rocks, please. Cheapest you've got," she orders, grateful when the bartender doesn't card her or bother her with small talk, just nods and goes to get a glass and a bottle from he low shelves.

Mike is eager to put this hell of a week behind her and loosen up her tight muscles with some strong liquor. As a newly hired associate at a fairly successful law firm, she's been put under the whip and made to dance to the tune of the firm's partners. Determined as her fellow peers had been to stand out, she'd had competition, but it's been nothing she can't handle. For all that she's about four years younger than the average associate; Mike didn't graduate early from Harvard Law on an academic scholarship for nothing. And a month into her new employment, her superiors have started to take notice of it, too. Which is why she's been running on about two to three hours of sleep per night this past week and a half, having been put on her first big case, with no intention of losing. As she gets her drink, she allows herself a wide, self-satisfied smile. Because guess what? She totally didn't.

"To victory!" she cheers to no one, saluting the air with her tumbler and taking a large gulp of whiskey. It burns down her throat, and she closes her eyes while humming in satisfaction. Her shoulders droop slightly as she relaxes, eyes still closed. "Oh, I love the taste of BAMF in the evenings," she sighs, taking another sip, her head thanking her for the darkness of her eyelids after squinting at texts in sharp lightening for so many hours on end. The amount of information she's crammed into her mind to stay there forever isn't that much more or less from studying for some of her finals over the years, but the added pressure of the case and its components had put a strain on her. Now, however, it's Friday night and she's officially off the clock until Monday. Life is awesome.

"What are we celebrating?" a smooth, male voice interrupts her musings, causing her to startle and almost spill her next drink of whiskey down her blouse. Her eyes having been snapped open the moment she felt the words being spoken next to her left ear, Mike just has to turn her head to find the source.

It is, indeed, a man. His face is about 3 to 4 inches from hers, smirking, and she's startled yet again at the proximity, jerking backwards in her barstool and nearly failing right off it if it weren't for the man's surprisingly quick reflexes. He's snaked an arm around her back and steadied her before the squeak lodged in her throat manages to break free, of which Mike is very grateful (she's already a blue-eyed, _petite_ brunette; she knows what she comes across as in this society, thank you).

A moment passes, in which she's waiting for him to let go even as she's trying to process all the _pretty_ going on with his face. Just as she's about to go from stunned and impressed to creeped out and pissed, the man backs off and settles down on the stool next to hers, giving Mike her bubble of personal space back. _Smooth._

"Uh," is all she can think of at the moment, taking in the sight her broader view of the man offers. He's a looker, all right; early thirties, charming. But she recognizes the sharks she plays with, and he's definitely one of them. Three piece suit, coiffed hair, slick smile? Serves her right for being lazy and choosing a bar this close to the office, knowing it's a neighborhood frequented by a lot of law firms nearby. One of which, she realized belatedly, is _Pearson Hardman_, because this is most definitely Harvey Specter, the up and rising star of said firm. Shit.

"Hello to you too," Specter says smiling, lifting his own tumbler of amber liquor in a mock salute, to which Mike finally comes to life. She blames her hell of a week entirely and refuses to acknowledge the flush she feels warming her cheeks.

"Yes, hi," she says, taking a sip of fortifying whiskey, eying him suspiciously. "You looking for someone?"

She tries not to flinch at her own awkwardness, but she's never been good at this kind of thing. She's either too blunt, too oblivious, or just accidentally flirting with the wrong person. It happens. Granted, in some cases it's enough that she's got boobs and participates in conversation for it to be considered flirting, so she doesn't judge herself too harshly on that point.

"Mm, yes, in a manner of speaking," Specter replies, setting his glass down with a soft clink and leaning his weight on his left arm, bracing against the counter, and twists his body to face her. She nervously uncrosses her legs only to cross them again, noting how his eyes don't follow the movement and grudgingly allowing a point in his favor. "I'm interested in what's got you looking so smug, actually. It seems like it could be interesting. Well," he pauses, looking slightly pained as he gestures to a partly occupied table further away, "more interesting than my previous company, at the very least. Humor me?"

Mike looks to where he's indicated, noting a balding man with unfortunate bunny teeth glaring their way, surrounded by three other suits sipping martinis and whiskeys with dour faces and grays in their perfectly shellacked hair. She knows those types too, and promptly snorts inelegantly in amusement.

"See what I mean?" he says, pained expression giving way to a wide, charming grin. She rolls her eyes, because really, the charm is oozing off this man like the aroma off of dark chocolate. She can't help but lean in a bit closer because of it, though.

"I do," she confirms, tracing a finger around the rim of her tumbler absently. Grinning in mischief, she continues. "In fact, I put some of those types away with a grand-slam just yesterday. Finished tidying up all the loose ends today: they got _trashed_. I'm feasting on their tears tonight," she adds the last as she picks up her glass and takes a swig, remembering the red faces of the opposition as her senior partner presented the case file she'd help build against them, cutting them down with information _she'd _found, that_ she'd_ put together and figured out. It had been glorious.

Specter raises a brow at this, looks intrigued and slightly amused. "A lawyer? I hadn't pegged you as one, Miss…?"

She has the sneaking suspicion that had she been anyone else, he would've proceeded to literally charm her pants off before booting her after a night doing the tango, all the while not bothering to learn her name.

"Well, junior associate, really, Mister Specter," she demurs with fake modestly, batting her eyelashes for a moment. Before he can reply she rolls her eyes and allows the cockiness she feels to shine through. "That said, we won the case on me. That's what I'm celebrating, hot shot. What about you?"

"Hmm?," he answers absently, seemingly busy reevaluating her, a thoughtful furrow between his brows.

"You said, and I quote, 'What are we celebrating?' It implied you were out celebrating something as well," she explains, amused despite herself. "Or was that just a really lame attempt at a pick-up line?"

Specter smirks, and she notices how he seems more engaged now: sharper and less charming. By definition, 'less charming' shouldn't 'charm more', she thinks with a mental pout. It's probably the whiskey. _Trevor_ had seemed like a good idea way back in high school under the influence of enough alcohol, and he really _hadn't _been.

"I don't recall giving you my name, Spitfire," he comments. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage."

"Spitfire?" she raises _both_ her brows, because she's not Specter or Mr Spock, and shakes her head, laughing. "Never mind. I'm Michelle Ross, Mr Specter," she extends her hand for a shake, giving him another mental point for not kissing it, "But I go by Mike."

"Please, call me Harvey. It's a pleasure to meet you…Mike," he returns her greeting, only pausing momentarily over her chosen name, but shakes her hand regardless. His hand dwarfs hers, but is warm and steady. "I doubt we have met before, because I am sure I wouldn't forget someone like you, which brings me back to… How did you know my name?"

Mike rolls her eyes, because he's not so much as curious as he's amused and completely full of himself. "Anyone who is anyone within law in this city knows who Harvey Specter is by now. If not, they should," she points out, because it's facts. The way he preens and puffs up like someone who knows it all too well amuses her more than it annoys her. He's earned it, after all. Worked his way from the bottom to the top, and she respects that, aspiring lawyer from Brooklyn that she is.

"Hasn't anyone told you?" Harvey grins, raising his dwindling glass of whiskey for a toast she returns. Winking, he finishes off with, "Flattery gets you everywhere," before taking a drink. She chokes on hers for the mere cheesiness of the line, spluttering as she tries to swallow, breathe, and laugh at the same time.

"Oh God, you're awful," she groans, wiping a stray tear from her eye and hoping her mascara won't smear.

He leans in closer in response, smiling wide. "So I've been told, Spitfire."

"Being awful isn't usually a good thing, you know," she points out with a snort, noting her glass is now empty. As she's about to signal for the bartender again, however, Harvey puts his hand on hers and gently pushes it down to rest on the counter again, his thumb caressing her skin softly. It takes her biting her tongue to suppress the shiver that runs down her spine in response to the warm touch.

"How about we take the second round at my place, and celebrate together, hm?" he suggests, eyes hooded, and his smile intimate and suggestive. She licks her lips and watches as his eyes darken, feeling hot and shivery, knowing very much what he's offering and wanting very much to take him up on it, despite the bone deep fatigue she'd felt up until he'd interrupted her evening. There's been an electric kind of energy building in her since they started bantering which Mike hasn't noticed until now, being given the option to release it.

She hasn't had a social life since college, and even then, buried in schoolwork as she was, it had been limited. Not to mention her relative young age at the time, alienating her from her peers. It had taken a few years for her to be legal (she'd graduated high school at fifteen), and by then, she'd mostly been dismissed. Although hook ups were never hard to find once she ventured out to clubs, she really hasn't had time for it in far too long.

Come to think of it, a good fuck to top off the evening after the week she just had might be just what the doctor ordered.

"Sounds good to me," she finally replies, the flush on her cheeks no doubt a dark red by now and her pupils dilated beyond what the dim light in the bar warrants. Harvey grins in response, obviously pleased, and downs what little is left of his own drink before waving the bartender over and taking care of their tabs. Mike doesn't bother protesting, merely sending out a thought of regret that she hadn't ordered the top shelf whiskey instead of the cheap one.

Bill settled, Harvey hops off his stool and offers a hand to help her slip off of hers. Groaning at the pressure put on her poor feet once more, she glares at the chuckle she gets in return, snatching her purse from where it hangs on the back of the stool.

"I saw you bending down to massage your ankle earlier," he explains, putting a hand on the small of her back as he steers her away to get their coats. Leaning in to speak low in her ear, sliding in close to her side, she can hear the smirk in his voice. "I particularly liked how it drew attention to your legs, and to just how many buttons you keep unbuttoned on that blouse."

Mike groans, hiding her face behind her free hand and clutching her purse in the other. She really needs to get used to her new wardrobe and how to maneuver in public in it, because she'd entirely forgotten about the buttons she'd snapped open this afternoon, sweating and running on caffeine as she rushed to get all things ready so she could have her damn weekend already. Well, at least now she knows what captured Harvey Specter's attention in the first place. Laughing, she elbows him in the ribs a bit more sharply than could be considered entirely friendly. "I repeat: you are _awful_."

"Mm," he hums, pressing a light kiss just beneath her ear. Her breath gets caught for a moment and she hopes the stray hairs escaping her messy bun got stuck on his lips, that menace, because they're not at his place _yet_ and she'll be damned if she gives him too many inches too soon, lest he take a mile.

"Your coats," the attendant managing the wardrobe offers, jerking her back to reality and making her realize she's missed Harvey taking them there and asking for them. She sniffs and juts her chin out slightly in defiance at his smug look, snagging her coat from him before he gets it in his head to help her into it. He seems the type.

"Letting someone know you'll be up late tonight?" Mike wonders, smirking, when she spots Harvey texting on his phone. He grins but doesn't look up until he's done, tucking it away in his pocket and resuming his earlier position, pressed up close by her side.

"Just letting an annoying little rat know that yes, I'm definitely leaving him in there with those piles of bones and dust in favor of the company of a gorgeous young lady," he replies, all charm and self-satisfaction. She thinks back on the table he'd apparently fled and remember the death glare of a bunny toothed man.

Swatting Harvey on the chest with the back of her hand as they exit the bar (more like 'establishment', really), Mike snorts. "That's mean. He didn't _really_ look like a _rat_…"

"Oh but he acts, and smells, like one," Harvey retorts, to which Mike grimaces and shrugs, because she's just going to have to take his word for it. "But never mind him, let's find a taxi and get out of here. I've got some excellent whiskey at home calling our names. It's much better than the dirt water you were drinking before."

Wrinkling her nose, she turns her head to look up and glare at him as he's waving down taxis. "What are you, one of _them_ now? A blue blood? You can't get down and dirty with us _common_ folk?"

Grinning, Harvey leans down and nuzzles her cheek, kissing the corner of her mouth, and whispers, "Oh Mike, you're handing me them on silver platters." He kisses her lower lip, and then withdraws enough to meet her eyes with a mischievous grin. "I'll get dirty and go down on you all you want, little Spitfire. Patience."

She groans because that's _terrible_, then reaches her hand up to grab his neck and pulls him in for a _real _fucking kiss, goddamnit. His hands are on her hip and back respectively before she can blink, drawing her closer into his heat, and in return she bites his lips and pushes her tongue into his mouth. He makes a deep, pleased sound that she swallows, tasting whiskey and something sweet, melting into the familiar wet and hot slickness of kissing. Remembering that they had been trying to hail a taxi, she breaks it off with a gasp, reluctant but eager to take this someplace else. Preferably with a bed.

Harvey seems to get it, because although he huffs in frustration, he keeps her close and focuses intently on getting them a ride. It's a little hilarious, and she giggles, delighted and very excited. He shoots her an amused glare before continuing, finally snatching the attention of a passing taxi and ushering her inside almost before it's pulled up to the curb fully. He snaps out the address to the driver as soon as he's followed her inside, promising a great tip, before he reaches for Mike and nuzzles into her neck with soft lips and wet tongue.

"Patience," she tuts, shaking her head mockingly, to which Harvey growls as he's displaced. He grabs a handful of her knotted hair to keep her still and nibbles teasingly at the hinge of her jaw.

"I think we'll skip the second drinks, don't you?" he murmurs, dragging his lips along her jaw until he reaches her chin. Dipping her head down, Mike whines at the resulting sharp tug of her hair, shivering as her scalp throbs and her lips presses against Harvey's. She slips her tongue out, licking, enticing him to stop teasing and he relents with a curse, smashing their mouths together urgently.

Mike moans as she allows him to take over the kiss, melting into him and forgetting for a moment where they are. The sharp jerk of a car braking suddenly bring her back, and the slight pain of the seatbelt digging into the wrong places where she's twisted around to better reach Harvey is a bucket of cold water. Panting, she pushes him back slightly, forcing bad memories down with the ease of habit. She focuses on the sting in her lips, the throb between her legs, and the flushed face of Harvey Specter pressing in close to lean their foreheads together. Their breaths mingle, and she feels as well as hear him chuckle.

"Usually, I can retrain myself," he offers with a boyish grin that shatters the last of her tension. She leans back, patting his cheek and laughing.

"Sure, Don Juan," she drawls, rolling her eyes when he captures her hand and kisses her palm, leaning back to observe her under lowered eyelashes.

"Well," he flashes his teeth, nipping playfully the fingers of her captured hand, "I do try."

She makes no move to free her hand, hiding a smile behind the one he hasn't got in his hold, and turns her face away to look out of the window. He lowers their hands down together to rest on the seat between them, his thumb once again caressing her skin as it had back at the bar before he made his offer.

They pass the rest of the ride in silence, occasionally glancing at each other and exchanging wicked little grins that have her stomach doing flips. It doesn't take too long before they arrive, despite New York traffic. It's not terribly late, only around 10.30pm, by the time Harvey pays the driver and Mike gets a chance to look at her watch. They're outside a fancy apartment building that has a doorman and everything, and Mike can tell already that she's going to be impressed. Giddy with excitement – the slight buzz of alcohol, the sting in her lips – she almost vibrates at the feel of Harvey once again pulling her close to guide her with his arm wrapped around her back, his hand resting on the curve of her hip. She's tipped the point of overtired where she's twitchy with restlessness, only now she's wired with another type of energy that once sated, will no doubt leave her completely knocked out.

"Here," Harvey leads her to a separate elevator, walking them inside and pressing the lonely button. It's a glass elevator, she notes with awe, sliding out of Harvey's hold to press up against its see-through walls and watch their rise over the city.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Harvey comments, pressing up behind her and caging her in with his arms. She feels the solid warmth of his chest against her back, her ass pressing against the bulge of his erection, as he nuzzles the nape of her neck. Looking out over the city, she moans and grinds back into him, arching her back and licking her lips. He bites at the side of her throat in response, hissing, and their eyes meet in the reflection on the glass.

"_Are we there yet?"_ she breathes out, aiming for sarcastic, and Harvey laughs. He drops his forehead down on her shoulder, sniggering, and she grins at her lone reflection, as only the top of his head is now visible.

"_Wait for it…"_ he drawls, voice slightly muffled, and she counts to four before the tell-tale ding of an elevator arriving to its destination echoes around them. She juts her elbow back and smirks at the 'oof' she gets in reply at whatever it was she hit, laughing when she feels his arms circle around her waist to drag her backwards with him, out of the elevator and…directly into a condo. Wow.

"This is where you _live?_" she gapes, craning her head around to take in as much as possible even as she's dragged further inside. Harvey hums distractedly in reply, tossing her purse to land on a couch she can see out of the corner of her eye, before pulling her coat off of her. When he's busy getting rid of his own, she turns around to see what she couldn't before, earning an annoyed huff that she ignores with a grin. Teasingly, she steps out of his reach and makes as if to take the grand tour, but he catches up with her in a few strides and tugs her gently into an embrace. He nudges her left foot with his right, and she notices he's somehow lost his shoes along the way. Taking the hint, she steps out of her own, sighing in relief as the pinched pressure eases up on her toes.

"Bedroom now, the rest later…_much later_," he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth before pulling away and leading her by the hand to what she hopes is a fucking amazing bed. She tries to take in as much as she can on the way, but gives it up quite quickly because Harvey Specter obviously wears tailored suits because holy _shit._

She's always liked a good ass on a man.

"Hey!" Harvey yelps, part incredulous and part amused, his lips twitching in a smile even when he turns his head to glare at her. Her palm tingles from where it slapped a very round, very firm, cheek. She stares innocently back, noting that he hasn't even slowed down on the quest for the bedroom, and he shakes his head. The smile wins out. "_Naughty."_

Grinning, she crowds up closer to him, barely noticing they've arrived, and presses herself along his side, their clasped hand trapped between them. "And what are you gonna do about it, hm?"

He hooks his free arm around her waist and spins her around so she stands face to face in front of him, and starts to back her up, until she feels the edge of a bed digging into the back of her knees. Leaning in, Harvey nips at her lips and presses light kisses along her cheek until he reaches her ear, where he dips down to suck at her lobe, tugging at her silver stud earring with his teeth. Letting go, he blows lightly at the damp skin and she shivers, biting her lip and titling her head to the side just so, inviting him in. She can _hear _him smirk. "I'm sure I can think of something."

Reaching up, Harvey starts to unbutton her blouse, tugging at it until it slips free of her skirt. He slips his hand under the fabric as it's parted, pushing it off her shoulders and dragging it down her arms until it falls down to the edge of the bed, snagging there by her legs. As he unzips her skirt, she attacks his vest (she notices for the first time that his suit jacket must have suffered the same fate as his coat), grumbling about unnecessary layers before starting in on his shirt. By the time she's gotten him out of those two, she's still got his undershirt left, and he's already tugged her skirt down past her hips to bunch up by her knees along with her blouse. Hands on her hips, Harvey pulls her back to create enough space between her knees and the bed to allow her clothes to fall fully to the floor.

She bites her lip and concentrates on his belt and pants, not daring to look him in the face right now, feeling his eyes roam her semi-naked body and wondering if he likes what he sees. She hadn't planned for this, and so she doesn't match: her bra is a comfortably cotton white, while her panties are simple baby-blue tangas she chose to reduce obvious hemlines showing through her skirt, without having to endure the discomfort of thongs (that brief period in high school had been enough, thank you). Although she thinks they're cute, it's no Victoria's Secret, but they're coming off soon anyway so she's never really seen the point.

Underneath, she's more confident.

**[A WHOLE CHUNK OF SEXY TIMES HAS BEEN DELETED HERE. YOU CAN FIND THE STORY UNEDITED ON MY AO3 ACCOUNT "SURRENDERDAMMIT". LINK ON MY PROFILE.]**

**[EDITED PARAGRAPHS]** Harvey presses in close until she's pinned flat to the bed, and she hears him give a drawn out groan, his forehead resting next to her on the pillow. She feels the puffs of his breaths against her shoulder, enjoying the few moments of silent, decadent afterglow as they catch their bearings.

"Fuck," she whispers, laughing breathlessly when Harvey only groans again in response, tugging at her hair that he's still got captured once before he lets go of it. He gets up and falls down next to her, maneuvering them underneath the covers. Mike turns her back to him, preferring to spoon, and he takes the hint. Pulling her close to his chest with an arm around her waist, he cradles her bum to his groin and nuzzles his nose behind her ear, breathing her in. She grimaces, elbowing him playfully. "Gross. I smell _gross_," she slurs, exhaustion finally catching up on her. **[END EDITED PARAGRAPHS]**

Harvey chuckles, kissing the tip of her ear, before he settles down. "You smell like sex," he corrects her, slipping the hand of the arm anchoring her to him down to rest on her stomach. "Don't worry, I'll clean you _thoroughly_…in the morning."

Barely having enough energy to grin, Mike mutters "Promises, promises" before drifting off, the warm breath of him at her neck and his body pressed close.

Victory, indeed.

**oOo**

* * *

><p><strong>End notes: <strong>Sorry if they're OOC :,D *goes back under rock*


End file.
